


It's Called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

by fools_seldom_write



Category: A Series of Unfortunate Events (TV), A Series of Unfortunate Events - Lemony Snicket
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Lemony Snicket as narrator, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:31:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fools_seldom_write/pseuds/fools_seldom_write
Summary: In which Count Olaf needs a bit longer to catch up to the Baudelaires at Montgomery's house, just long enough for them to develop some good old PTSD





	It's Called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder

Klaus Baudelaire woke up with his pajamas covered in sweat. It was an uncomfortable feeling, the way his shirt was sticking to his bare chest and how his twitching movements had shifted his pants to feel too tight between his legs. If his physical condition had been his only problem, however, he would be lucky. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. The pictures of his most recent nightmare still clearly before his eyes, Klaus breathed out shakily and huddled up under his blankets, never mind his dampish clothes. It didn’t matter how bad his physical condition was, as his mental one was much, much worse.

He didn’t know when he had begun to cry, possibly even before he woke up, but he could feel the hot tears running down his cheeks, tasting the salt on his dry lips, which were sore from him biting down on them too hard. Klaus Baudelaire had never chewed on or bitten his lips, and he had never understood people who did, as in most cases, it only caused further pain and money to buy lip balm. But it was the only way to keep himself from screaming.

A part of him wanted to sit up and check the room, make sure Count Olaf was nowhere near, but he forced himself to lie still. Rationally, he knew that Olaf couldn’t have appeared in their bedroom overnight, and Klaus Baudelaire was a rational person.

Even though he was covered in a thick blanket, almost tangled in it, Klaus Baudelaire felt cold. The sweat soaking his pajamas was cold, and the sensation was supported by his memory of Count Olaf.

It is impossible for the mere thought of someone to change a room’s temperature, but it is possible for said thought to change someone’s perception of temperature. Just like a memory of something happening can be strong enough to make one feel physical pain, because the human body isn’t completely rational, or more accurate, the human brain isn’t. In this night, Klaus experienced both of these things. He was cold even though the temperature of the room hadn’t changed, and he could feel a faint, throbbing pain in his right cheek where Count Olaf had hit him weeks ago. It was not the first night he had experienced this, but it was one of the worse ones.

Klaus knew that he would likely not fall asleep again, but he didn’t get up either. The blanket kept him at least somewhat warm, and he was afraid any noise could wake up his sisters. That he wanted to prevent more than anything. His mental state would probably be easier to handle with Violet to take care of him, but he didn’t want to put this much on her shoulders. It would only worry her. She had been through worse than him, with Count Olaf sexually harassing and threatening to rape her, and it didn’t seem fair to make this about himself. He got away with a bruise on his cheek. He didn’t even want to think about how Violet had to feel. The mere memory of Count Olaf’s predatory behavior towards his older sister made his stomach turn. Who knew what would have happened to her if Sunny didn’t manage to escape and he didn’t know enough about law and morality to convince Justice Strauss that the marriage between Olaf and Violet ought to be invalid? Klaus knew, but he liked to pretend he didn’t.

At twelve years old, most teenage boys know at least something about sexuality. The Baudelaire orphan’s parents, being noble people, had given them a fair deal of sex education. As he lied awake shaking and crying, Klaus wished they hadn’t, because then he wouldn’t have these images of their former guardian forcing himself on his sister in his head. It made up a considerate amount of his nightmares.

Klaus wanted to sob thinking about this, but he bit down on his knuckles instead. He was fairly certain that Violet and Sunny were both sleeping, and he wanted to keep it that way. In the last few weeks, he had perfected the art of weeping without making any sounds. It is a useful skill for when you share a room with people and do not wish to alert them, or when the walls of your cheap motel room are particularly thin.

Klaus kept lying there for several minutes without moving. He had his eyes and mouth closed to try to stop his crying, his arms slung around his knees to try and keep him warm, and his whole body shaking because he failed with both. His breaths were quick, not helping to calm him down.

_“Klaus, I’ll touch whatever I want.”_

The sound of Count Olaf’s voice was still echoing in his ears, and it distracted him so much he didn’t hear another person approaching his bed until they sat down on the edge and made the mattress sink in. Klaus jumped, mouth opened to a silent scream, turning around so quickly it hurt. The dim light in the room was enough for him to recognize the silhouette of his sister.

“Violet.” Klaus whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear. “You’re awake.”

Violet wanted to touch him but didn’t. She knew she needed to give her brother space, for now at least. “I’m sorry I scared you.” Violet answered him, voice the same volume as his.

Klaus breathed in through his mouth a few times, then let himself fall back into his bed, on his back facing the ceiling. He didn’t shut her out by turning away from her, but he didn’t look at her either. He couldn’t bear looking at her right now, not with the pictures of his nightmare still in his brain. He didn’t want to look at his sister this way. He couldn’t stain how he thought of her, not like that.

“Is Sunny asleep?” She was sleeping in Violet’s bed most commonly. It wasn’t like Klaus had a problem with that. It was better this way; he didn’t want to wake up his baby sister almost every night with his stupid nightmares. She was too young, too blissfully unaware. When his parents were still alive, Klaus had read somewhere that babies don’t make long term memories because their brain needs the storage for learning new things, like talking and crawling. Of course, Sunny was different from other babies in a lot of ways, but her brain wasn’t bigger than others’.

“Yes.” Violet said.

Klaus blinked slowly and swallowed dryly. His throat felt sore from the crying and he knew he should drink some water to make the pain stop. Not now, though. Now, there were more important things.

“You should be asleep, too.” Klaus whispered, still refusing to look at her. He continued to stare at the ceiling, which was barely visible in the dark of the room. He wasn’t even sure whether he wanted her to go back to sleep. Her mere presence near him gave him comfort, but he felt guilty about worrying her. It was probably a good thing it wasn’t his decision to make, as his sister was usually stubborn and cared about him very much.

“I could say the same about you.” Violet replied softly.

Klaus sighed. She was right. He should be asleep. It was the middle of the night and he was a twelve-year-old boy, needing at least eight hours of sleep for his body and, more importantly, his brain to function well. When his parents were still alive, he got those eight hours most of the time, except for the times he needed to read a book in one setting, which is a perfectly valid reason to ignore one’s sleep schedule. Another reason, though not as pleasant as a good book, are repeated, trauma-related nightmares.

“I couldn’t sleep.” Klaus mumbled. He felt a little uncomfortable with not telling his sister the whole truth, but it was a much lesser discomfort than he was feeling at that moment anyway.

“Me neither.” Violet said. Klaus should have expected that, really. He had just thought about how much worse Violet’s experience with Count Olaf had been. It would make sense that her mental condition was worse than his, too, which wasn’t a pleasant thought. He didn’t want his sister to suffer in any way.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Klaus asked. He knew he didn’t want to talk about it, but he would feel bad if he didn’t at least offer it.

“Not really.” Violet said.

“Me neither.” Klaus said.

For a few seconds, they said nothing. They simply continued to exist for these few seconds, and the presence of the other was enough to make them feel at least a little better. Then, Klaus finally managed to glance at his sister. She was just a silhouette, a body slightly darker than the rest of the room, and he couldn’t possibly hope to perceive more of her, given that his glasses were on the nightstand and there was barely a source of light in the bedroom. Briefly, he wondered how much she was able to see of him. Could she see how red and puffy his eyes were, or the dried tears on his cheeks? What about the glistening layer of sweat covering his whole face? Or the marks his teeth had left on his knuckles?

“I think we should talk about it regardless.” Violet said.

Klaus knew she was right, even though he didn’t want her to be. It was much easier to simply continue to exist. Even thinking about forming these horrible dreams, these horrible thoughts into words made Klaus feel sick. He couldn’t possibly tell his sister that he had nightmares of Count Olaf violating her. He couldn’t force her to think about that for longer than she did anyway. He couldn’t do this to her. Besides, it would already be hard enough to just talk about his general trauma and the anxiety resulting from it, without mentioning the parts that involved her.

“A number of professionals recommend talking about trauma as a factor to resolve it.” Klaus said, because he didn’t know what else to say. If he talked about books he read, he wouldn’t have to talk about Count Olaf. “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is said to rarely get better without taking measures to resolve the trauma at the root.”

Violet swallowed. “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.” She repeated, a certain sadness in her voice.

Klaus knew it wasn’t a question, but he decided to answer anyway. “Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a mental disorder which occurs after someone has experienced a traumatic event, like losing one’s parents or being placed in the care of a man who makes one perform a vast list of tasks and threatens as well as performs various abusive actions.”

Violet only talked again after a few seconds of pause. “I wouldn’t call it care.” She remarked.

Klaus sighed and didn’t reply. They both knew he didn’t mean to imply that Count Olaf actually cared for them. It was because he didn’t that they had to have this conversation in the first place.

The memory of his parents’ library, in which he had read up on mental disorders, made his heart ache. Uncle Monty’s library was lovely, but it was missing a certain familiarity and a feeling of belonging that he always associated with home. As much as he tried, he still didn’t feel safe here. Olaf had promised to keep hunting them, to find them everywhere they went, to come after their fortune again. During some of these nights, Klaus wished their parents hadn’t left them anything at all. Then he could sleep through the night without having to worry about a notorious villain to show up in his bedroom, then he could actually feel safe, and maybe he could even make this his home. But their parents had left them an enormous fortune, and because of that, he couldn’t sleep through the night without having to worry about a notorious villain to show up in his bedroom, he couldn’t feel safe. Sometimes he wondered if his parents ever considered something like this to happen. But at the end of the day, he knew that if his parents had considered that, they would have never let it happen that way. They would have never consciously put their children into that kind of danger.

“I miss them.” Klaus said, almost choking on his words. He blinked away his tears and swallowed hard. He didn’t want Violet to see him cry. Maybe it was childish, but he didn’t care.

“Me too.” Violet said, with the same sadness in her voice as him.

Klaus finally turned towards his sister completely. He placed one hand on her knee and ignored the thought of Olaf doing the same. He pushed it down and suppressed the instant impulse to remove his hand again. He was not Count Olaf, and that was not Count Olaf’s hand on Violet’s thigh. It was his. Count Olaf was far away, his hands nowhere near Violet.

She put her hand on his, slowly stroking the back of his hand with her thumb. He closed his eyes and focused on her touch, and how comforting it felt. Almost safe. Almost.

“Violet.” He whispered with his eyes still closed. “Thank you for being here.”

“Mom and dad made me promise to look after you and Sunny.” Violet replied promptly. “It’s granted that I will never break this promise.”

Klaus didn’t take his sister’s care for granted, and he didn’t think he should, either. “It’s not.” He said, with a voice that didn’t allow disagreement. “Not with all that you’ve gone through.”

“With all we’ve gone through.” Violet said.

Klaus nodded slowly. Even though you’ve gone through more, he thought to himself. He didn’t say that out loud. “Yes.” He said instead.

With her free hand, Violet combed through his hair and lightly scratched his scalp. Klaus couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “It’s okay.” Violet reassured him. “We’re safe here.”

Her presence and gentle voice made Klaus feel not as cold anymore. The pain in his cheek had faded without him even noticing. He felt indeed safe. Maybe this could be his home.

 

Of course, as the Baudelaires would soon find out, the presumption that they were safe at Uncle Monty’s house was dramatic irony, because not too far away, a notorious villain was almost ready with his new plan to get their fortune, and this plan would not only prove to the Baudelaires that they were indeed not safe at Uncle Monty’s house, it would also make them realize they could not ever be safe anywhere, not when Count Olaf was alive and full of evil plots and the adults around them so easily tricked.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel slightly evil for making the Baudelaires suffer, but I know Daniel Handler would be proud of me


End file.
